


Memories of You (Stucky)

by asiriusproblem



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Feels, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asiriusproblem/pseuds/asiriusproblem
Summary: Another depressing one fellas,,,





	Memories of You (Stucky)

The room was dark; the only source of illumination was the orange glow of the street lights  outside, shining dimly through the window that hung above the dripping kitchen sink. Steve Rogers sat at one of the two seats at a worn, wooden dining table, shoulders hunched and shaking. He held a piece of paper in his trembling hands and felt the weight of the words written across it in neat, bold print. The thin sheet slipped through his fingers as a breathy sob broke past his lips and he buried his face in his hands. 

Steve's sorrow was muffled in his attempt to remain as quiet as possible. He tried to fight back the tears but his chest was uncomfortably tight and the salty droplets left his eyes against his will and rolled down his face like a waterfall. It’s almost as if his life flashed before him, memory after memory playing in his mind.

_ September 10th, 1930. _

_ Children were scattered around the playground, the sun bright and showering them in its warmth. Young Steve Rogers occupied one of the swings, pushing himself back and forth with difficulty; his feet hardly scraped the gravel below. _

_ He expected to spend this time by himself- as he usually did- until tall shadows loomed over him. Steve lifted his head to find three familiar faces. He sighed. _

_ “Hey, Rogers!” A pudgy boy from his class stepped closer, causing him to shrink away. “Have any lunch money to share with us today?" _

_ "No…" Steve lied. _

_ The bullies were probably three times his size and his palms began to sweat as he increasingly became more nervous. _

_ "Awe, Stevie, don't you know it's bad to lie? I left my money at home but I'm quite hungry," The one who appeared to be the leader smirked devilishly and turned to speak to the other two. "Aren't you, boys?" _

_ They nodded, the same dark look etched into their features. As they closed in on Steve, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the impact of a punch. _

_"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" A foreign voice shouted from nearby._

_ Steve opened a tentative eye.  _

_ Another boy around their age had run up to them. He was lanky and looked to be skin and bones; but he was just as tall as Steve's assaulters- if not taller.  _

_ "What did you just say?"  _

_ "I said," the boy stood his ground boldly and intimidatingly. "Pick on someone your own size." He paused between the words and put emphasis on them. _

_ Steve observed the scene helplessly with wide eyes as punches were thrown. The bullies eventually retreated, glaring at them as they went and his savior stuck a hand out towards him, wearing a kind smile. “Hi, I’m James Barnes. But most people just call me Bucky!" _

_ He accepted the outstretched hand and gave it a shy shake. "Steve Rogers.” _

 

_ ~ _

_ October 25th, 1936. _

_ The duo- now much older- climbed up the last set of rickety stairs that led to Steve's beat up apartment.  _

_ "How was it?" Bucky asked. A clock chimed in the distance.  _

_ "It's okay," Steve replied. He didn’t dare look at his best friend, afraid that he would break down if he did. "She's next to dad." _

_ “I was gonna ask-” _

_ Steve fumbled around in search of his key. “I know what you’re going to say, Buck. It’s just…”  _

_ Bucky watched him with a patient and steady gaze. “We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It’ll be fun! All you’ve gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash,” he nudged a brick on the ground to the side with his foot, revealing the misplaced key and handed it out to Steve. “Come on…” _

_ “Thank you, Buck. But I can get by on my own.”  _

_ “The thing is… you don’t have to,” Bucky shook his head and gripped Steve’s shoulder in what he hoped served as a comforting gesture. “I’m with you 'til the end of the line, pal.” _

_ Steve knew there was no way out of what Bucky was offering. The corners of his mouth quirked up nonetheless. “Okay, okay fine.” _

_ The brunette pulled him into a tight hug, a grin plastered across his face. _

 

_ ~ _

_ January 9th, 1937. _

_ The weather in Brooklyn was freezing. Not a single snowflake had fallen and yet the winter was still cruel and a harsh wind blew through the air- so harsh that Steve thought their small, shared apartment would get swept away. He was curled up in Bucky's bed, sniffling every so often and burying his cold nose deeper into the depths of the thin blanket. That's how Bucky found him when he arrived home from work.  _

_ "Steve?" _

_ The blond lifted his head to peer across the room at his friend; he didn't look much better than he did that morning, his skin a pearly white except for his cheeks, which were stained a rosy pink. "Hey, Buck," his voice was raspy and the words spoken came out slurred. "How was work?" _

_ Bucky sighed as he took a seat on the bed next to Steve. "It was work. Have you eaten today?" He felt Steve's forehead with the back of his hand.  _

_ The frail man nodded slowly, recalling the soup he had managed to cook up earlier that day when he had a small burst of energy.  _

_ "Scoot." Bucky prodded at him gently and slid under the covers. Steve moved closer and accepted Bucky's warm embrace when he opened his arms. He was like a furnace, his chest radiating heat despite the chilly air and Steve's shivering settled down to nothing.  _

 

_ ~ _

_ April 28th, 1938. _

_ "Sometimes I think you like getting punched." Bucky exclaimed. Steve sat atop their kitchen counter as the cut on his lip was being tended to with a wet rag.  _

_ "I had him on the ropes." Steve winced.  _

_ Bucky huffed out a laugh. “I know you did.” _

_ A nasty purple bruise was already forming around Steve’s right eye, evidence of the fight that the older man had to pull him from not even an hour prior. “Christ, Steve,” Bucky whistled as he wiped away more blood before ringing the dirtied rag out into the sink, the running water washing it down the drain. “This needs to stop happening.” _

_ Steve began to protest, but stopped as soon as he saw the look on Bucky’s face- concern. Their eyes met and his chest fluttered. Steve didn’t know how Bucky tolerated him on the daily, always caring for him and making him feel like he wasn’t just some sick kid in Brooklyn who wouldn’t get anywhere. Bucky was the one who had convinced him to take art school, informing Steve that he could go a long way with the talent he had. Of course it wasn’t easy; while the school wasn’t expensive, money was hard to come by those days. _

_ The blond gave a curt nod. Bucky’s steel blue eyes were still piercing into Steve’s ocean blue and his shoulders became less tense as Steve agreed, grateful that an argument didn’t ensue instead. He pushed a strand of Steve’s hair back and found himself running his fingers through his soft locks, watching his friend’s eyes close involuntarily at the feeling. However, the brunette was quick to move his hand away, knowing that if he didn’t, he would go too far. He took a step back and put on a happy face for Steve. “There you go, pal. Good as new.” _

 

_ ~ _

_ June 17th, 1939. _

_ It was a Saturday. Bucky had the day off of work and was taking the opportunity to sleep in while he could. But Steve had woken up early and sat on their bedroom windowsill, sketchbook and pencil held in his grasp.  _

_ Only the scratching coming from the graphite on paper was heard, and maybe a few snores from Bucky. With a view of him lying in their bed, resting peacefully, Steve thought that Bucky looked beautiful. He laid on his stomach, face planted into his pillow and t-shirt riding up slightly. Steve looked from the paper in front of him to Bucky, back to the paper, back to Bucky, sketching messily and adding in the finer details later on.  _

_ As an hour or two passed, Bucky began to stir, his slumber coming to an end. Steve tucked the sketchbook away hastily, not wanting him to see- not wanting him to ask questions that Steve was too nervous to answer. He exited the room before Bucky had fully woken up and when the other man came out to the kitchen to greet him with a tired “good morning,” Steve offered to make him some breakfast with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. _

 

_ ~ _

_ December 16th, 1941. _

_ “I… I got rejected,” Steve hung his head low as he confessed. “They told me I’m ineligible because of my health.” _

_ Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know how much this meant to you.” He said in apologies.  _

_ The two men stood in their living room. Steve had just returned from town with a failed attempt at joining the military and he worried his bottom lip, willing himself to look at the other. “Did you get your orders?” _

_ Bucky hesitated but took a deep breath and said, “107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow,” he didn’t get a response from Steve. “Will you be alright?” They’d hardly been apart from each other for longer than a couple of days since Steve decided to move in. _

 

_ The blond’s voice cracked when he finally spoke. “I don’t want you to go.” It was barely audible but Bucky heard the words loud and clear and strode across the room to Steve, enveloping him into a tight embrace. Steve was shaking in his arms and clung to him for dear life, rambling and crying into his shoulder. “I don’t want you to go, Buck. I don’t want to lose you-” _

_ “Hey, hey, hey, who says you’re gonna lose me?” Bucky stopped him mid-rant. He pulled away only a little so that he could meet his eyes, determined to help Steve feel better. “You won’t lose me.” Bucky’s hands were holding Steve’s face, calloused fingers against soft skin; they were inches apart. _

_ Steve leaned into the other’s touch and felt himself getting lost in those steely eyes. “You’re all I have left.”  _

_ He watched Bucky’s gaze travel down to his lips and felt his heartbeat grow faster. They were standing so, so close to one another- closer than friends would. The moment felt intimate and the world around them slowed down and faded out until the only thing Steve could focus on was Bucky- his Bucky, who was staring at him like he was the most valuable thing in the world and who was running his thumb across his bottom lip. _

_ “Steve-” _

_ “Shush.” The blond’s eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated. His forehead rested against Bucky’s and their noses brushed. The only thought running through Steve’s head was ‘It’s now or never,’ as he closed the gap between them. The kiss was gentle, almost tentative, but it effectively stole the air out of Bucky’s lungs. He almost forgot how to function until everything came crashing down and he smiled against Steve’s lips, pulling the smaller man closer. _

_ Steve’s arms came up to wrap around his neck, hands running through his hair and tugging gently.  _

_ Bucky was the first to break the kiss but he stayed close. He felt like he was flying, his mind comfortably hazy. “Christ,” he breathed out. “You have no idea how hard it has been sleeping next to you for the past five years.” _

_ “Oh, I think I do.” Steve countered.  _

_ Bucky didn’t reply, only pulled Steve in again, tilting his head to the side to kiss the blond deeper and dragging a quiet whine out of him; this only encouraged Bucky to continue and he kissed him fervently. Steve felt like he was on top of the world, he was in such a state of euphoria. This was nothing like anything they had ever experienced before and they both held onto it like their lives depended on it. _

_ Teeth nibbled at Steve’s lip, across his jaw and down his neck and he gasped. His breathing was ragged. “Bucky…” The older man hummed against his neck, continuing to place delicate kisses wherever he could reach. Steve smiled contentedly, drunk on the man in front of him. “I love you.” _

_ He felt Bucky pause before he saw it, and he tensed up, trying not to expect the worst. Until Bucky brought his head up to level with Steve, a dopey smile on his face. “Really?” _

_ “Yes,” he nodded curtly. “Yes, of course. Always.”  _

_ Bucky kissed Steve once more, tenderly. “I love you too.” _

_ Steve observed Bucky’s mouth as he said it, his heart swelling.  _

_ “Take me to bed?” The blond saw a flash of lust flicker in the man’s eyes and not long after, he was being pushed down onto their bed, Bucky kissing him with toe curling ferocity.  _

 

_ They laid together later that night in a tangle of limbs, holding each other close under their thin comforter. Despite their earlier activities, it was still December. No words were spoken between them. The sun was setting, bathing everything it touched in gold and Bucky ran his nails up and down Steve’s back, causing the blond to croon next to him. _

_ ~ _

_ December 17th, 1941. _

_ At the train station the next morning, Steve could hardly hold himself together as Bucky stood tall, dressed in his military uniform. He looked stunning and Steve attempted to memorize every single detail before the man departed. _

_ “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Bucky told him. He wore a small frown, his chest aching.  _

_ “How can I?” Steve smirked. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” _

_ A chuckle fell past Bucky’s lips and he pulled his lover into a tight hug. “You’re a punk.” _

_ “Jerk,” his voice wavered and he pulled away from Bucky, afraid that he would never let go. “Be careful.” _

_ With a salute, the man boarded the train and was out of sight. _

 

-

 

**‘Mr. Steven Rogers,**

**We deeply regret to inform you that Sergeant James Barnes is officially reported as killed in action May ninth 1942.**

**My deepest condolences,**

**Colonel Chester Phillips.’**


End file.
